


Home

by StarScreamLoki



Series: Hear me [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki - Freeform, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarScreamLoki/pseuds/StarScreamLoki
Summary: These ‘Hear Me’ fics are short fics written from Loki’s POV in first person where I try to get inside his head during specific scenes from the movies and try to track his thoughts. I’ve got no clue if it will be good so I’m fully dependent on your comments on this first piece before I finished the other ones and/or continue it.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> In The Avengers 1 Thor told Loki to come home, but what if your home is taken from you? How does that feel? And where does it come from?

_“You come home”_

Three words that Thor spoke to me and wounded me more deeply than I care to admit.

Do you know what it is like to have your home ripped from you? Do you know what it’s like to wander around the universe not able to go back where you came from, but neither have new or other place where you belong?

I wanted to scream those questions at him, but I could not. For one, because others might be listening, and the second reason because he would never understand. He would never be able to recomparend what had happened to me, what had been taken from me. He was the one that could return, no retaliations awaiting him, but I could not, not now, not ever. Nor did I want too. Because who in their right minds would want to return to something that would bring them naught but pain? Who would want to return to something that held so many bad memories?

Home is not a place, it is a feeling, just as Asgard is a people and not a place. But I wondered, was Asgard truly ever my home? The inhabitants of the realm treated me with disdain, even if I bore the title of Prince. They laughed and mocked, making me feel a stranger amongst my own kin. Never good enough, always the narrator, the instigator... The antagonist.

It was only later that I realised home shouldn’t feel that way, but what did I know, for nobody ever taught me differently. Nobody told me how things should be, and that my ‘home’ was nothing more than poison slowly eating me alive. Even until this day I still have no clue, but I’d rather have no home and no knowledge about what it should be, then ever go back.

I hear you think; what about Frigga, your mother? Well, maybe she was the only one who ever made me feel like I belonged somewhere, maybe giving me the slightest hint of a feeling of home. But do not forget, I learned my tricks from my mother, and though I deeply care for her, she could sometimes just be as manipulative as I am. Albeit it was in her own compassionate way; a way that I could understand, relate to, and made me feel less of an alien among my kind. Yes, she was home, her smile, her kind words, and that should have been enough, but she wasn’t. I still longed to part with the shadow of Thor and Odin, giving me a rightful place among the denizens of Asgard, and thus in my ‘home’. Yet, not even her kind words or caresing touch could give me that.

I’m not sure when the realisation had set that I no longer had a home, that I did not belong, and I often ponder two events that might have been the moment that could have been the trigger and I subconsciously realised it; but certain I am not.

Had it been the moment that the truth of my heritage revealed itself? That the harsh reality that I didn’t fit in for a reason, and I never would, was because of my blue skin. Was that the reason why I didn’t feel at home? I know not. But all I know now is that it left a bitter taste in my mouth and filled my veins with a burning rage. It shattered my heart leaving behind a void of sadness to which I succumbed. And in the end, even nourished and harbored.

Like I said, home is a feeling not a place. It are those you care about that create that feeling, and even that had been put out of my reach by two simple words spoken by the man who was supposed to give me that home.

“ _No, Loki_ ”

With those words Odin had brutally ripped it from my grasp. Again. No, I held no love for him, for he treated me just as worse, maybe even more than every other Aesir. But somewhere in the back of my mind, as I was hanging from Gungnir, I still sought his approval. I searched his eye to see if there was even a part of him left that cared for me. That could give me that home even though my skin was blue and my eyes red.

He did not. He couldn’t look past his anger and my rigid actions, and thus he couldn’t give me a home, or even hope.

Yes, ironic that the man I despised so much, hated, was the one who was able to take it away, but that can all be blamed on the simple truth that one will always seek the approval of those who will not give it to you, keeping you locked in a poisonous relationship and vicious cycle which is hard to break.

And thus he took away the place I called home.

I know my next words would wound Thor greatly, and as they tumbled from my lips they became real to me as well. The simple realisation that everything had been taken from me, and that I would not get it back no matter how hard I would try.

But also the realisation that no matter how hard I tried, Thor would never understand it. And thus all I could do was push him away. Push the face away that reminded me of what I once had, the home I once had, or never had actually, and never would have, and free myself. I pushed because I would never have a home, and thus I did not care. Not for him, and not for me.

_“I don’t have it”_

It was the mortifying truth.


End file.
